Someone Else's Fault
by Valar Morghulis
Summary: It's never been in Nyneave's nature to forgive and forget, and when she gets angry not even Lan can stand in her way. However, it's never been in Lan's nature to back down from a challenge... Oneshot.


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Lan

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Myrelle cowered in the corner of the bedroom, the fabled Aes Sedai dignity and poise lost to her for the moment. Her dark green dress, skilfully embroidered with gold, was pushed down to near her waist, exposing the fact that she was wearing nothing underneath. A red handprint was throbbing on her cheek, and the rest of her face was nearly the same hue. In the back of his mind, Lan could sense her presence, her pain, her emotions. Although what emotions they were, exactly, seemed to be beyond comprehension to a causal observer.

'_Shame_,' Lan thought. '_Shock, anger, maybe a little regret.' _Even through their bond, he could hardly decipher the Aes Sedai's feelings right now. In fact, he would be surprised if she knew herself. Nevertheless, he was making his best effort. '_Defiance – but only a bit. Terror, mainly.' _That was the overpowering emotion that came through. He could hardly blame her, though. Faced with the sight of his wife on the war-path, any clever person – any sane person – would cower and hope to ride out the storm.

So far, Myrelle was not having much success.

"How dare you!" thundered Nynaeve. "How **dare **you! I should string you up by your ankles for this. I should… I should…" Words failed her, but instead she swung her hand around and caught Myrelle on the face again, overlaying the previous mark. The Green sister made no move to block the blow. Despite himself, Lan winced. He could feel Myrelle's pain, and it was taking every scrap of self control he had not to leap to her rescue.

"You think you can just walk in here and flaunt yourself?" shrieked Nynaeve, regaining her stride. "You think you can come into _my _room and seduce _my_ husband? Filthy slut! But you enjoyed it, didn't you? You liked every moment!"

An invisible hand lifted Myrelle high into the air. Only now did she start to struggle, but Nynaeve had her bound tightly. The green dress strained, and with a pop of ripping seams it tore itself into pieces, scattering fabric over the furniture of the room and revealing that Myrelle indeed did not have anything on underneath. "Well, here you go! This is what you wanted, wasn't it? To let him see you naked? Take a good look, Lan. Because I doubt you'll see this sight again!"

Sighing, Lan walked closer to Nynaeve. She was very loyal to him. He could say that about her. But sometimes... well, sometimes she got a bit carried away. Just a bit. After all, it must have been a shock to come in and see Myrelle lying on the bed with her dress half off, with him standing next to her, studiously ignoring the sight – at least, as much as he could when his head was bound in place by the air itself and his eyelids forced open.

"Nynaeve," he began, but got no farther. She immediately spun around, letting Myrelle fall in favour of suspending Lan upside down using flows of Air and glaring daggers at him. "Don't pretend you didn't like it, Lan. I saw you. Staring at her until I thought your eyes must pop out!"

"Nynaeve," he said again, patiently, "She was holding me with _saidar_." Light! The woman must have felt the One Power even before she entered, and they both knew it. Was she just trying to be stubborn? Well, two could play at that game. "Just like you are. You may have noticed that I do not like it." None of his words seemed to be having any effect on her, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to speak calmly from a position three feet up in the air. "Since you are my loving and dutiful wife, you will do as I say, and put me down. You hear me, Nynaeve? Put me down. Put me down!" Suddenly, Lan decided that being civil was not worth the effort. "Blood and bloody ashes, Nynaeve! You are my wife, and you are going to do what I say or you won't be able to sit down for a week!"

Lan was not sure what startled him most – Nynaeve not arguing with him or her letting go of the flows of Air. Either way, he was so surprised that he forgot to catch himself, landing awkwardly on his left shoulder and rolling onto his back. When he looked up, he saw Nynaeve standing over him, an odd look on her face. Was it tenderness? No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't. Lan knew that his wife was a woman of many moods, but not even she could be feeling tender after having just shouted at him like that. As soon as she realised Lan was watching her, Nynaeve blushed and turned back to Myrelle. She blushed! He had once hoped to understand women, but at that moment Lan realised that even his own wife would forever be beyond his comprehension.

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Nynaeve

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Nynaeve looked hard at Myrelle, her fiery fury of a few minutes ago melting away to be replaced with cold anger, cold as ice. "Wait outside," she said sternly, and Myrelle scurried to obey. You had to be consistent with subordinates. Some people, like Rand, just did not realise that. If you were moody, angry one moment and happy the next, people lost faith in you. Nynaeve tried to set a good example, wherever she was, and she just hoped enough people would follow.

"Wait a moment," Lan said, standing and walking over to the wardrobe. He opened it, pulling out the closest dress – a plainly made woollen gown – and throwing it to Myrelle. "I'm sorry about your dress, but I'm sure Nynaeve will be happy to get you another one." Nynaeve looked at him fondly. Sometimes she wasn't sure why he bothered. Why should he care if Myrelle had to stand in the corridor naked?

Oh. The bond. It all came back to that bloody bond. When they had been together, in Ebou Dar, or Caemlyn, or somewhere far away from flaming Myrelle and her flaming Warders, it had been easy to pretend that Lan already belonged to Nynaeve. She had fancied that she could even feel his thoughts in her head, and he hers. But now that bloody Myrelle was back, it was all different. No-one should be allowed to _own_ Lan that way. It was just wrong. No-one! Well, except for Nynaeve. But that was different. If only there was some way to force Myrelle to hand over the bond. After all, it was Nynaeve's by rights, despite the fact that Myrelle had changed her mind about keeping Lan. That bloody woman!

She looked up, and saw Lan watching her strangely. Had she been muttering that last bit under her breath? She smiled tentatively, and he smiled back, and for a moment she remembered their wedding. He had smiled like that just before he took his vows to her, the Seafolk ship rocking beneath their feet, and even her slight seasickness had not – could not – ruin such a wonderful moment. Now, she wanted nothing so much as to run and fling herself into his strong arms.

But that would give him the wrong impression, wouldn't it? Make him think that she wouldn't _mind_ him flirting with every available woman. Make him think that she would forgive him _every_ time he did something like this, something that he _knew_ would hurt her. Nynaeve growled softly under her breath as she slowly moved over to Lan. It made her angry just to _think _about what he had been doing with Myrelle. He was innocent, was he? Innocent! Typical, boorish male pig! If he was innocent, she would eat her hat!

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Lan

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Lan watched Nynaeve curiously as she stood muttering to herself. He truly loved his wife, but she was just so strange sometimes. Fiery one minute and calm the next – if Rand was like that, half his army would desert in no time. Just look at her now – stalking towards him menacingly, one hand clenched in a fist by her side while the other was sharply tugging her braid. Yet wasn't it just a minute ago she had been smiling tenderly at him? And a minute before _that_ when she had been holding him upside down and berating him like a child? Ah well. Lan knew just how to calm Nynaeve's frequent explosions.

She stopped before him and took a sharp breath. "Al'lan Mandragoran, if you-"

That was as far as she got before he swooped forward and kissed her.

For a moment Nynaeve resisted, her mouth hard beneath his, but slowly she began to respond – her arms around his back – her lips warm against his – her body pressing into him. They stayed like that for minutes, clutching each other, before she slowly pulled back. Lan smiled at his wife and she smiled back before leaning forwards to peck him on the lips. Lan grinned again, until Nynaeve drew her hand back, slapped him on the cheek and smirked at his amazement as she sauntered away.

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